"Why do you put your life on the Internet?"

In short: because it saved me

I returned from a quick trip to Germany last Saturday. Just an aside: I never used to understand when people said they “couldn’t sit so long” (the flight takes 10 hours) - but boy oh boy, do I understand it now. My legs and back were killing me from sitting in that cramped environment, I felt supremely uncomfortable being in such close proximity to strangers, and I had to do deep breathing exercises whenever the flight attendant’s trolly was parked beside me (I was sitting on the aisle) and I was caged in between the trolly, the stranger on the other side, the reclined seat in front and the occasionally kicking stranger behind me. Absolute hell.

Lesson learnt? Don’t dismiss what people tell you. Just because we haven’t experienced something ourselves doesn’t mean it’s not valid or that it’s untrue. I used to scoff at the idea of not being able to sit (how hard can sitting be?) - what an asshole I was. Sitting painfree for such a long time is a privilege, not a given. Being ill, older, in a larger body, having anxiety, claustrophobia, a fear of flying, or about a million other conditions are valid reasons why people have a hard time sitting still.

I went to Germany because my dad had a serious health scare. He is a very private person so I won’t go into detail; all I’m going to say is that he has MS, he is in a wheelchair, and amongst many other things, he taught me about the privilege of sitting. He is doing better, and we spent many hours talking more openly and honestly than we have in years. It was a very special visit, and I’m grateful that I got to spend quality time with him. It was also an eye-opening visit in unexpected ways.

There are secrets in my family. This is not as outrageous a statement as it may seem at first glance; there are secrets in every family.
But the question came up (delivered in a barely masked accusation, because family) why I share so much online, and I’ve thought a lot about it.

First of all: there are many things I don’t share. I have strong boundaries (especially concerning the privacy of other people) and I only put things online that I’m 100% comfortable putting out there.

So why do I do it? My why is simple: growing up in a family that valued privacy above all else nearly killed me.

The way things look were more important than anything else in my family. Outward appearance trumped true connection every time, and it made me feel lonelier and more isolated than I can put into words.

”Never let them see you cry.”
“What goes on in the family is nobody’s business.”
“Showing your true feelings is a sign of weakness.”
”Put your mask on and smile; nobody needs to see how you really feel.”
”Sort out your problems yourself; don’t confide in others.”
”Why are you so emotional?”

I had no way of knowing that the moodiness, intense fear of the future, and severe depression I experienced in my teens were real medical conditions with names, treatment plans, and support. I was made to believe that I was an overly emotional drama-queen who thought too much and worked too little, and that I should pull myself together and stop overreacting all the time.

I didn’t know that other people felt like that, too.
I didn’t know that every single person has doubts, fears, and no idea what to do at times.
I didn’t know that feeling lost is inevitable, but that you didn’t have to do everything the hard way.
I didn’t know that I wasn’t alone.

I was scared for a very long time. Decades. It wasn’t until I started blogging in my early 30s that I slowly began to understand that I wasn’t a needy, overemotional attention-seeker but a person with feelings like everybody else. It was a lightbulb moment that has changed my life.

At first I found it much easier to open up to my computer and faceless strangers than to people IRL (an upbringing like mine will do that to you). I devoured countless blogs, memoirs, and other true stories, and slowly, I started to see that I wasn’t the outsider I had always feared I was. I wasn’t the selfish, broken, ungrateful person I believed myself to be - I was simply a person. A person with flaws like everyone else, with talents and gifts and strengths I had been taught were weaknesses.

Over the past ten years I have unlearnt a ton of lessons that didn’t serve not only me, but that serve nobody. I will never forget the words my doctor said to me when I first sought help for my depression: “Life doesn’t have to be so difficult.”

That’s it in a nutshell: I share personal things about my life because I know that we are stronger together.
I don’t share because I think I’m special; I do it because I know that I’m not.

Many of my problems and challenges are universal. We are all scared; we all feel powerless; we all have something that we believe we have to hide, because family or society or movies have taught us that it is something to be ashamed of.
Why add to the burden by believing we have to carry it alone?

There is strength in numbers. Community is a gift I didn’t get to experience growing up, and I missed out on so much. You can only form real friendship if you open up to another person and make yourself vulnerable; anything less is something that may appear like friendship on the outside, but is just a pale imitation that’s empty inside.

Going back to Germany is a stark reminder how far I’ve come. My heart aches for the ones who still struggle alone, locked into the belief that they’re better off without other people. I used to be there; it was a lonely, desolate existence.

Stories saved me. I credit Jeannette Walls’ memoir The Glass Castle for the start of my healing journey. When I first read her memoir I was in my late twenties, and I was completely blown away by her honesty, her beautiful writing, and most of all, her ability of describing a deeply flawed family in such a loving, kind way. It planted a seed in me that would start to sprout several years later when I wrote down my own story.

Secrets have a way of eating away on us. Hiding something you believe is shameful is slowly destroying your life: it affects your relationships, your selfworth, and your peace. Frankly, it’s not worth it. No matter how bad you think your secret is, know this: there are more people out there with the same problem than you can imagine. You are not as special as you think (and I mean that in the best possible way)!

I’m not saying that the only way to free yourself of your demons is by spilling your guts on the Internet. It was what worked for me; you will have to find your own way.

Therapy, talking to a friend, and spending some quality time with yourself are all invaluable tools on the road to self-discovery and freedom. Stories in all its forms are something else I highly recommend: movies, memoirs, podcasts (You're Wrong About, Maintenance Phase, and I Weigh are three that have helped me tremendously in learning more about the human condition) and books are endless sources of joy, learning, and not feeling alone for me.

If there is one thought I want you to take away from this letter, it is this: we are all much more alike than we think we are. To recognize that we have to open up to each other.
That terrible thing you are sure nobody would understand? We all have done, said, or thought something similar. You are not as special as you think/fear you are 😉
Fear and shame thrive in the darkness; once you shine the light on them, they lose their power.

All my love,
Miriam

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